Harry Potter and the Time of Terror
by a-dandy-lion
Summary: Harry's sixth year is just around the corner and with the prophecy's contents known to him, he is ready to act. Involves summer training. Promise to update regularly but only if feedback is given. Mild flames and reviews appreciated. Possible HG. Definite
1. Dreams of Doom

Disclaimer: So do not own Harry Potter. Wish I did. But don't. Thats why I'm here..... Course, if I owned Harry Potter, I don't think anyone would read it.... depressing.... but true. Who reads books written by fifteen year olds,who would publish them,eh? I'm not that bothered though, as long as my favskeep updating, all is fab!!!!! Sweet. I finally got the line thing working.... ooookay. Ignore that last thing bout the line.... an authours musings....

* * *

"Bring him in.," snapped a cool and calculating voice. 

The man before him bowed clumsily before darting from the room. It was dark and dreary, the room bathed in a slight glow from outside. The two large windows had been left uncovered, still dusty from years of being idle, and a slight fire burned in the fireplace. Dust drifted over, making the short sniveling man sneeze as he was pushed into the room. Darkness reigned as the hooded man threw himself at the foot of a large graying armchair.

"My lord," the man wheezed.

"Hush, Wormtail," the cold voice snapped. The room was suddenly thrown into light as a dart of lightning flashed outside. It was raining, and thunder boomed magnificently, causing the man to tremble.

"Stop _sniveling_!" the seated man barked, the voice seeming to be almost bodiless as it cracked across the silent air.

Lightning struck again and the cold voice's owner was thrown in to a sharp horrifying relief for a mere second. But it was enough. Red eyes glowed piercingly from cat-like eyes. A horrible snake-like nose, flat with slits for nostrils, and a whiter than a skull face. A lipless, malicious smile and a pair of pale hands, like large spiders, idly twirling a wooden stick in its finger tips.

"I detest the light. Close the curtains, Wormtail." The harsh voice ordered, and the smile grew even more as the squat, balding man nervously fumbled, backing away from the coldness that came from the man. He tripped slightly as his foot caught the edge of a matted rug, stumbling slightly before balancing himself. His bowed head rose in apology, fear evident on his sweaty face.

"Sorry- sorry my lord," he mumbled, and reaching the window, a trembling hand tried to grasp the curtains. Thunder rumbled ominously.

"Hurry you imbecile!" the voice snapped.

"Yes, my-my lord." The squat man panted, and a sweaty palm finally grasped the dirty fabric, tugging at the defiant curtain, trying to cover the main source of light as the windowpanes rattled eerily. But once again a flash of lightning filled the room, and Wormtail let out a moan, as he turned his head, eyes shining in horror, back up to the livid red eyes. The smile was wide and the lidless eyes seemed almost black.

"Too late." The snake-like man stated, and the unnaturally long fingers stopped twirling. The stick was grasped in one hand, and with a wip-like crack the seated man waved it, and his cold voice whispered, "Crucio."

Wormtail's cries of agony filled the room, the pale man laughed loudly, and somewhere, two hundred miles away, a dark haired boy thrashed in his sleep, yelling loudly as forehead throbbed, fit to burst.

Lights darted on all over the house and grunts were heard as loud stomping sounds drew closer to the distressed boy's room. Grumbling and loud shouts followed by banging on the door, all growing louder, had no affect on the whimpering boy who was clutching his forehead in pain. A thin, lightning-bolt shaped scar was clamped in cold, clammy palms, redder than ever before.

"Boy! BOY! Shut up, you hear me? Shut up!" The grumbling was replaced with bellowing as someone fumbled with locks on the other side of the door.

The boy continued to moan desperately, tangled tightly in his sheets, still twisting and turning. The door banged open, smashing into the wall, denting the white plaster, and a large, whale of a man was revealed, wearing tartan pajamas and mustache mussed. Face purple, he stormed angrily to the pale boy's bed.

"Shut up, you little brat, shut up! Stop it! Stop this stupid yelling; you little piece of-" the purple-faced man shook the boy, squeezing him in a vice-like grip by the shoulders as he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth.

And still two hundred miles away, the skeletal thin man's eyes widened, and the smile changed, a smirk-like effect taking over, and the man's lipless mouth parted to reveal black, rotting gums. "Why hello, Potter," the man said almost charmingly, and the black haired boy jerked instantly awake, screaming loudly, still in his uncle's grip.

* * *

My first ever story and chappy!!! At least, my first here. Please give me some feedback. I know its short, but you gotta start somewhere and I promise to update regularly if I get some damn feedback! Cookies to all those who reply. I wouldn't mind a betareader if anyone's willing. Any ideas, comments... just push the little purple-blue button. Also, i've got great favourites, especially Lily and James fanfics. Love that pairing. This story will eventually be R/Hr, as well as H/G. Eventually. If it even gets that far. Anyone have any stories they would like to recommend, or any stories they want me to read, feel free. Yes, I am not above begging, but also I love to read. I plan to read all the decent J/L ones by the end of next year. Lol. So. Yeah. Give me a go. Pretty please?! And shout out to all those who love love, love, love TheOC, a show has never rocked like that one does, Seth you kick ass and I can't wait for the second season. One Tree Hill rules too!!!!!!!! Please read and review. If you don't review and you do read I will be very depressed. Boohoo!!! I double spaced to make it seem longer…. But will it work? Mwoahahahahaha!!! okay. I just checked and it doesnt work... does anyone know how to get spaces and stuff on this document thing? Cause the bloody thing doesn't even let me indent!!!! It's a crime to literature!!! 


	2. Red, Glaring Eyes

You all know I don't own this, so please stop rubbing it in my face!!!! ::growls at miniature JKRowling sitting on her shoulder who is singing loudly and blatantly pointing, staring _and _laughing::

* * *

Having such a dream always had a bad affect on Harry Potter, and the sight that greeted him as he woke did nothing to help the rather hysterical situation 

Still bellowing, Harry did his best to scramble out of his Uncle's arms. The man's face was steadily growing purpler, and he shook violently.

Harry forced back the vomit rising in his throat and backed away from the large man. Any minute now the man would lose his temper, and it was going to hurt, Harry more so than his uncle.

Harry was tenderly rubbing his arms where his uncle Vernon had gripped them. The man was unsurprisingly strong, 'probably where his lump of a son got it from,' Harry thought, before turning his attention back to his present situation.

The man gaped, opening and closing his mouth, his face now an angry shade of violet, and seeming to force back his angry words, he turned swiftly around and strode out of the room, swinging his arms more so than normal and slamming the door behind him.

Relief flooded into the boy, but only for a moment, then the dream came rushing back. Harry slumped against the wall, sliding to the ground. He tucked his knees in, resting his elbows on them, and then, using the palms of his hands, pressed hard against his eyes, glasses now lying at his side.

He tried to force the image away, to empty his mind, but much as last years Occlumency lessons, Harry found it impossible.

He continued to sit there, curled up in an uncomfortable position in the corner, and slowly the images of earlier faded, leaving Harry all alone, in the dark, with his thoughts.

The creaking of the trees outside, waving in the wind, hooting of owls, muggle and wizarding ones alike, the loud snoring of his uncle and cousin, and the luminous red glow of the alarm clock by his mattress. Red, like Gryffindor. Red like blood. _He _had been in Gryffindor. _He _was gone now. _He _hadn't spilt any blood. Harry had though. Wormtail did it to him. In the graveyard. By Cedric's still body. With Voldemort. Red like Voldemort's eyes.

The images flashed behind closed eyes, clenched shut in fear, pain, horror. And grief. Grief for those who had suffered for no reason. Who had lost for no reason. And grief for those who would still suffer and die and lose, for no reason. No reason other than a prophecy. A prophecy and a boy. A very lost and alone boy.

The alarm clock was haunting him. Glowing red. 12:02am, it read. Harry had only been asleep for two hours. He didn't plan on sleeping again. A shadow flickered in the opposite corner and Harry trembled. The clock still glared. Red. Glaring. Whistling wind outside. A shadow. And red.

Harry's senses were in overdrive. "It's stupid. I'm just being stupid." Harry chanted to himself, trying to calm the fear in his heart. "I'm just paranoid. Nobody's here. I'm all alone."

Alone. Alone…. alone. The word echoed in his head, over and over again. He was alone, that was the problem.

Somewhere outside another owl hooted; and the trees waved in the whistling wind; and that shadow flickered. And the red eyes glared at him. 12:02am.

Harry's own eyes darted around as the shadow moved again.

"CLICK!"

The miniscule sound caused Harry's heart to leap into his throat. In a flurry of movements he flung himself out of his corner. Stretching desperately, he reached it, his shield. The lamp switch.

Pressing the button a small dirty lamp flickered on, and one corner was bathed in light. Small as it was, the light settled Harry's heart to its rightful place in his ribcage.

And Harry, just as apprehensive as before, sunk back into his corner, senses still alert. In his dash for the lamp he had forgotten that his wand would be more protection than a measly, plastic muggle contraption.

Curled in a fetal position, back against the walls, he sat back down.

He wouldn't close his eyes. Not when the wind whistled, the trees waved, the shadow lurked and the eyes burned a red 12:03am.

No, sleeping was a thing of the past.

But he was only human, and slowly, so slowly he barely noticed, mist fogged his thoughts. And his senses dulled. And his eyelids drooped.

Sleep came peacefully this time. And so he slept. Dreaming a dream he wouldn't remember. And the wind still whistled, and the trees still waved, and that shadow still lurked, and the red eyes burned, and a dusty lamp glowed. And somewhere near his lumpy mattress, there came a "CLICK!", and the red eyes flickered, 12:05am.

* * *

Hi hi! Goldilocks31890 here. Yes yes. Me again. Do stop groaning. I've decided that I like details. Quite a lot actually. In case you didn't notice. There is a lot of it this chapter, and it is also a very messed up chapter. Now, me, being the author, can do no wrong. That's right. NO WRONG!!! The author is always right. Even if the author in question didn't invent the original series. Anywho. Now that that's out of the way. Ahhhhhh…. Yes. As I was saying, I'm going to go ahead and say that the reason this chapter is soooo, hmmmm, how do I put it…? I would say shit, but the author is always right! So, the reason this chapter is confusing is because I decided to do it like an insight to Harry's current mental condition, what he's thinking as he sits in his little corner, rocking back and forth and acting entirely like the man being followed by pigs in purple coats that no one else can see. And its obviously not looking too good my friends. I'm not sure if this chapter will stay or not, but right now, its what I've got. I'm still looking for a beta, to bounce ideas off of, and to help me fix my story when it goes, no, not wrong, but off course, and God forbid, out of canon. If none of my invisible reviewers steps up to the plate for the position, then I may go begging back to my old beta, who I haven't written to in two years…. Yes. We have a tight bond…. Not. But yes. I may go crawling back to her. She didn't work on this site so that may be a problem for my invisible reviewers… but ahh shucks, that's just poo-ey for my invisible reviewers. I may even begin to call you lot the IR. Sounds dead official. Anywho. My dear IR, I am considering writing a comedy about evil polar bears and whatnot at Hogwarts. Should be interesting. Cause the author is always right! And as the IR, well you are Invisible Reviewers, so yeah, I speak for you now. Mwoahahahhahahaha. And now onto my thanks for the five who are not, but may be if they wish, members of the IR. 

Oh, and sorry for the incredibly long author note, and short short chappy. I think I may wait to see what response I get from the IR, and if its good, then it'll stay. And if not, I will take it back down and add another long section about the Weasleys and Co at Grimmauld or wherever their little wizard-selfs be adventurin these days.... I'd also like to see who would be interested in reading a story featuring mad polar bears... it could be interesting.... and not in a pervy way... as far as the polar bears are concerned that it... ewwwwwwwww.

Reviewers. You are being given the chance to join the IR. If you don't reply about this chapter, well, lets just say you are more than halfway there to making the cut for my little organisation.

Thankyou's!!!!!

First of all to me. Dear Goldilocks31890: you have been a great inspiration, blah blah blah. Thats right. I gave myself my first review. Dead pathetic, but meh, here's one person who will never be joining the IR. Mwoahhahahahahahhahaha.

Solo Flora: thanks a bunch for being my first proper review. I like that you wrote your mind. The fact that I am very partial to my details has nothing to do with it. But thanks.

Brandybuck: I love you! Sorry. But that was a very nice review and I am glad you reiewed. I gots you for a penpal!!! yay!! I am very delighted about that, but still, don't feel like you have to tell me that my story is good, if its not. Tell me its shit when its shit, and I will take it down and rewrite the shit part. You are only helping me. And saying this chapter is shit, well, not that hard. Its confusing at most and totally awkward. But I always loved the scenes where people were nutso, so... figures. Thanks again.

Elven Dagger: Don't worry. I'm not a H/G fan either. I'm actually very partial to the whole H/ all alone one. He's been it for the last 15 years, people, I'm sure he'll manage fine. Lol. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you don't join the Ir, as it's very packed as it is.

anniePADFOOT: I love it when Wormtail suffers too. Its like, hey, why not let him get hit by a bus?! Sounds good to me! Anywho. Thanks for the review. You rock. And the OC and One Tree Hill rocks too!!!! OMG!!! the first season of One Tree Hill, woah! a lot of shit happens in that town, is all I'm gonna say. So enjoy it. Its great to laugh at others pain, unless they are real, then its a no-no... or so I've been told.

deep blue quill: thanks for reviewing!!! I hope that you dont also join the IR. That group is getting very depressing.

Thats all, except for my lovely IR!!!!! Thanks guys. You rock forever and ever and ever. This story couldnt be what it is(pathetic) with out you guys pulling me along. I love you. And lastly, to all those out there who are't flaming me, well gosh darn it!!!!! I want some one to curse at me!!!! Its never fun without cursing!!!

Thats all folks. I'm off to feed the pigs in the purple coats. They've been getting hungrey and, quite frankly, they need a bath. Their purple coats have stains in them!! The horror. And don't forget. Anyone with a shitload of time and willing to try and make this story better, without rewriting the entire thing, make it a little more than the lowest form of scum, just say it in a review, or email. Perferably review, as it makes me look better. I think I've made this as long as acceptable without waffling(too much.) Lol. Cheers, and adios.

Hit the little lilac button. Come on you can do it!!!!


	3. The Window

Do stop groaning. Yes, yes, it is me. Back. Again. Sorry sorry. But it was this or study, and even though the exams are only two days away, well, I figure I can waffle my way though, same as usual. Time for our favourite thing ever, the Disclaimer!!!!

Disclaimer: I am JK Rowling and I am here to tell you about the brilliant story I have written. I also created the IR. Yes. Yes. No!! Goldilocks31890 created the IR!!! But I did everything else…. Uh-huh. So. Yeah, I've confused myself, so here we go. I don't actually own the idea, but this is my version of the sixth book, and anyone who steals, if they are stupid enough to want this story and also don't fear the wrath of the IR, yes, well, please _do_ ask permission first, as stealing, like laughing at others pain to their face -behind their back is fine- is wrong!!! No no no!!! Naughty naughty!!

* * *

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a table, scrubbed and wooden, and chairs in the middle, with a counter all along the area under the window. This particular window was a great source of light during the day, wide enough for an average height person to fit horizontally in, though nowhere near as tall. It hadn't come with the house, but had been one of the things the head of the family, Ms Weasley, insisted on having.

A very talented Quidditch player in her Hogwarts days, and having even been offered a position on the England squad, she was once very much in love with the dangerous sport. The feeling of hurtling through the air, so out of control, and at the same time also very much in command. There was just something about it that used to make her heart flutter. Six of her seven children also had the love of the sport that had possessed her very soul when she was young. Young and carefree, something she certainly no longer was, and neither were they. It broke her heart to see it. To see the very thing that had woken her up, made her realise that there was more to life than Quidditch, have the same awakening. For her children to be at the pit of despair and have those overwhelming feelings of injustice, almost ten years before she even new the real meaning of grief. Not all of her children were experiencing these emotions, or at least, _he_ wasn't showing it.

That's why the window was there. So she could watch her beloved children play Quidditch. The sport had long since lost its effect on her. She didn't mind watching though, only to see her children play. Playing herself was almost as pointless to her as the idea of allowing Fudge to continue his reign of idiocy.

It was where she stood now, in front of that window, watching the small figures in the distance. Seven of them. All crowned in halos of red hair, two of them blowing lightly in the wind. She did wish Bill would let her cut his hair. Or at least get rid of that bloody fang! But that was the way Bill had always been. Independent. All the eldest children seemed to inherit that characteristic in her family. She herself had been it. Stubborn, strong in her beliefs. She had never been one to cower, especially not if it meant hurting others or for personal gain.

All of the sudden the woman seemed to collapse. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned heavily against the counter. Behind her the dishes seemed to falter for a second, before continuing to wash themselves in the sudsy, sink water. Her eyes filled with tears and a slight sniffle escaped. Almost every single one of her family had inherited the same over protectiveness both she and Arthur had. Fred and George had been banned from Quidditch because of a slight made at the family. Bitterness filled her entirely as she thought of last year's events. Her twin sons were so blatantly carefree, so much so that no one seemed to see the way they were hiding the fact that everyone else was lost. Jokes and pranks. She hated them for what they did. People hid behind them. Acting as though they hadn't a care in the world. But she also loved them, because of Fred and George. The boys were so like her younger brothers. The idea of creating mischief lighted up their faces.

She didn't know why, but, as it often did this last month, her mind jumped to the tenth, unofficial, family member. Harry Potter. Her lips trembled slightly as she remembered the first time she had met him. Almost six years ago on platform 9 and ¾. So small he could have been six, and innocent looking enough too. So polite, he'd made a tender impression on her heart. Every year she had seen him, getting on and off the train, often escorted him with her own son, and every year she couldn't help but see the way his eyes changed. Still polite, timid and looking younger than he should, and his eyes always that same vibrant green, but year-by-year his eyes seemed to dim, the light behind them going out slowly. And maybe it was her imagination, but every time he saw Ron, or Hermione, or even any Weasley, that light, the same light he'd had that first time long ago, would spark. And he would smile, and he truly was as good as her own son. Harry had that affect on many people. Unknown to all of her family, except maybe Arthur, though he didn't say anything, Molly Weasley kept a close eye on all her kids, and Harry. A weekly correspondent of Minerva's, as well as a few of her old Hogwart's teachers, Ms Weasley almost always knew what they were doing even before Dumbledore told her. What had surprised Molly the most, was the way Minerva, who had always taken to every Weasley -though she wouldn't admit it- was so obviously enraptured with the young boy. She would always have the same tight bun, and the cursive writing, but Molly, having known the Transfiguration teacher for quite some time, knew when a smile was being forced back, even when it was in writing. Minerva hadn't been the only one either.

'Percy…' she sighed. He had written to her weekly when he was in Hogwarts. He had been an almost instant fan, though for all the wrong reasons. Where as Ron and Harry formed a tight bond, loyal and lifelong, Percy wrote nothing of the sort, saying it was a 'good job Ron had made friends with such an important person'. He was materialistic to a point, and saw everything at face value. Feelings were something he never had been adept at, which was why Molly had been so surprised when he had announced that he had a girlfriend. He'd never had any friends, other than the other prefects. Too studious for most, much like Hermione, though while Percy was cool and calm about everything, Hermione had a passionate way about her. That was why Ron, Harry and Hermione had such a tight friendship too. All three were deeply passionate and motivated, though not all for the same things. Hermione and her books, she was firmly a feminist, Harry and his bravery; he was passionate about everything a Gryffindor was said to be, from Quidditch to his friends. And Ron. Chess, Quidditch, food. That was what he showed. But, as his mother, Molly knew things. She saw how Ron would stare for hours at a piece of parchment, the back of his ears tinged pink as he tried to think of how to respond to Harry's letters. Or when someone thought to even make a hint towards impure blood, the way his jaw clenched, and his balled up fists were shoved into his pockets. You could see it in Ron, the way he stood, or talked, when he argued, that he was very much a passionate person, he gave off an aura, the same way Harry did. Hermione had no aura to speak of, at first. But once she started talking, she left people in awe with what she had to say. It made Molly proud to see how well the three had grown up together, but it also was one of the reasons she was so worried. While she feared her family's death in the upcoming war, she also feared something much more great. She knew that those three were inseparable, and wherever Harry went, so did the other two. She didn't blame Harry, but she also wanted none of her family, unofficial or not, anywhere near this fight, and she knew, in her heart of hearts, that Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, would be at the very centre of the entire mess. What scared her the most, was she also knew that if Harry or Ron or Hermione were to die, that the remaining two would never recover.

It was a hopeless feeling that Molly utterly despised, and she quickly grabbed an extra cloth from the sink and went over to wipe down the table. The tears were filling her eyes as she thought of her family's chances of getting out entirely alive.

From behind her, the door banged open, giving her quite a start, and she hurriedly brushed at her eyes as Fred and George's boisterous voices filled the kitchen, followed by Bill and Ginny laughing slightly, and Ron and Arthur talking quietly. That sad look was once again in Ron's eyes as she turned around, her own eyes a little red rimmed but other wise perfectly normal. Only her husband seemed to give her a curious glance, to which she responded with a wavering smile.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said, her voice a lot more normal than she felt.

Fred and George cheered loudly, and hurriedly rushed to grab themselves a seat as the table magically set itself. Ron, with less gusto then normal, also grabbed a seat, fighting with Bill for a moment before grabbing another seat, and finally Ginny, too, took her seat.

Ms Weasley quickly went over to take the large assortment of food, from steak and kidney pie, to roast potatoes, off the counter. Arthur came up behind her and whispered slightly to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice timid and cautious, not that she blamed him. Last time she had started screaming and sobbing uncontrollably, last time having been about two days ago.

She nodded quickly, forcing another smile on her face, as she was aware of the odd silence behind her. Her children, Merlin bless them, seemed to have heard or sensed the way she was behaving and had immediately quieted down. Probably thought she had a headache or something, though she wouldn't put it past Fred, George and Bill to have sensed the real reason. She turned around, the pot of roast potatoes before her, and saw them all either duck away, starting conversations with false brightness in their voices. Except for Ginny, who smiled brightly at her, as though encouraging her, and Ron, whose brow was furrowed as he glared at his plate.

Molly took another deep breath, before asking in her usual voice, "Alright, who wants roast pota-" Her voice was cut off as a massive boom shook the entire house, Fred's plate slipping of the table and Ginny screamed.

"What was tha-?" Fred began to ask, but he was cut off as a shrill piercing noise filled the house, ringing for five seconds before immediately cutting out as Arthur waved his wand in an upright and jerking, circle motion. Fear filled Molly's heart as she chokingly put the pot on the table. She ignored her children's voices as she reached into her apron and pulled out a small ring.

"Engorgio," she muttered, waving her wand at it, and the ring grew to about half the size of their table.

"Mum? MUM!" Ron's voice called. "What's happening?" he asked, and it was the desperation in his voice that made her look up.

"Quickly now. Grab the ring you five. We need to leave." She whispered, sounding lost and unsure. 'Where is Arthur,' she couldn't help thinking.

"Why?" Ron asked, and the question brought her snapping back.

"Now! Grab the ring. That's the alarm. NOW!" Her voice was eerily reminiscent of all the times she had yelled at the twins, and everyone immediately jumped forward, knocking over their chairs as the jostled for a good grip of the ring.

"Where's dad?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide and huge, as she looked about, her voice panicky.

"Right here. Let's go," and he also grabbed a hold of the ring, tucking a stack of folders into one of his enlarged pockets.

"Wattlebird," Ms Weasley mumbled, and with one last look at her kitchen, wondering if she'd ever see it again, there was a jerk behind her navel, and the room began to spin.

And the last thing she remembered was the feeling of falling into a bottomless hole, and the squeezing of her heart as Ginny's voice called across the circle, "Where's Charlie?!"

* * *

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! I HATE CLIFFIES, DON'T YOU? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. THANKS AGAIN-Oops- sorry. Caps lock off. There we go. Thanks again to the IR. I love you guys!!! Still waiting for someone to offer to be my beta… hinthint. Am I that hopeless? Cause if I am… well, that would explain the size of the IR… hmmmm. Anywho. Lol. What do you think? Good ending or what? Did any of you notice Charlie was missing from the beginning? I didn't make it too obvious, just at the beginning when I said that part about her watching the seven of them from the window, and that she wished Bill would cut his hair. I was going to hint that so maybe some of you panicked and thought Percy had just rejoined the Weasley's, and that I had left it all out!!! HAAAA. Hardly as I think it's the best scene ever. I haven't written it yet, but I'm sure JK Rowling has and I'm sure it rocks. I didn't plan on leaving Charlie behind, but I thought, meh, like the IR will care, and anywho, lets finally get some action in here. Cause I know action is what you all crave, my dear IR, as I made you, and also, well, I thought, what the heck, lets leave someone behind, it'll be an adventure! Poor Charlie, he just got the axe, or did he? Stay tuned my invisible friends, for there will be more soon. But first I must go feed the purple coat wearing pigs, as not only are they my inspiration, but they are hungry and one of them just keeled over… and he's not breathing. Oh well, more food for Jasenta -she's the one with matching nail polish- she's my favourite. First person to review, and I don't count, gets a pig named after them, and everyone else just gets a cookie. Haahaa, you poor suckers you.

For last chapters reviwers:

asterix531: Thanks a bunch. Glad you liked the description, as one person said there was too much.... anywho. thankyou. pity you don't like the OC. I hated it to at first, I used to groan when my friend said she was going home to watch it, I was all, but that's soooooo crap.... I will never, EVER say that again. Hope you like this chapter too!

anniePADFOOT: Thanks annie. Harry is not insane yet, but it kinda looks like he's travelling that way, doesn't it? But really, he's just mentally disturbed. Ha. No, not yet. Red is a cool colour, captivating and very symbolic, which is one of the reasons I used it last chappy, and JK probably uses it too. When you see a colour, assed to a scary image, the image can fade, but if its a vibrant colour like red, well, it seems to almost seep into your mind and just sit there behind the lids of your eyes, waiting... as you can see, I got Harry's craziness from personal experience. lol.

Brandybuckbeak: You rock!!! You were my first reviewer for this chappy, and you are my new best friend!!! yay! sorry to creep u out... it happens. Opinions are only good if there truthful though, remeber that, and I hope you are recovering quite adequately.... heeheehee. theres a bit of 18th century snob talk, or so I like to think in my severely damaged and polluted mind...

On to those who reviewed my first chapter but didn't get a shout out cause I had already updated. Sorry.

Mika: Cool. I'm glad it freaked you out, that was the effect I had hoped for. I also hope you will read the second and third chappy.

brilliant-author16: Thankyou!!!! As you can see, I have followed your advice and kept writing!!!!

AND FINALLY!!!!!!!! One of my very faithful reviewers, anniePADFOOT, has a simply marvelous story, called Blood In My Eye. The link's in my favourites. Everyone should go there right now!! What the hell are you doing here reading my crap story when you could be reading Lily and James goodness, anniePADFOOT style?! GOOOO!!! Oh, and here's the summary for it.

The second you're born, you start dying. You die more & more each day; you know it's going to happen, just not in what way. And Lily is killing James. Not his physical body… but him, inside. JamesLily

Now does that sound fantabulous or what?! GO READ!!!

Also, anyone who wants to be my beta.... feel free. Cause someone has to organise my thoughts for me. It may take me longer to update... but meh? No one will notice anyways...I'm trying to sound pathetic... is it working? Also, I want to say a temporary good-bye to Elven Dagger, and Solo Flora, who have indeed, gone to a better place, and joined the IR. The Lord will lead his sheep home, or something wise and prolound like that.

Oh, and lastly, how the fuck do you make double spaced lines and indents and stuff? cause mine just aint working?!


	4. My son, My turn

Disclaimer: It's mine, all mine, mwoahahahahhahahahahah!!!!!!! not. Shuddup already and read the story! Reviews adored!!!!

* * *

The gloomy halls of Grimmauld Place were all of a sudden full of noise as a motley group of redheads arrived in the kitchen. There was bellows and questions, all full of anxiety as a tall balding man tried to hold back his six children and comfort his crying wife.

But for Molly there was no comfort. The tears had started before she even landed. Her face was shining with emotion and her eyes were red rimmed.

"Let me go, Arthur, let me go," she moaned pitifully, sobbing as she clawed and pushed at her husbands arms, trying to get away. Their children had stopped to their own demands to go back as they watched their mum's valiant struggle to get away. "He's my son, Arthur, my _son_! Let me go!" she wailed again. Her shoulders were shaking with the effort and her breaths came in deep, body-wracking gasps. Her heart was breaking, and all she could feel was this overwhelming grief, so strong she had only felt a similar feeling twice in her life, when her brothers were murdered, and when Sirius had died for Harry and all she could remember was her own voice chanting over and over again, calling him irresponsible. The only girl and the youngest, Ginny, let out a sob of her own as well, and rushed forward into her mother's arms.

"Its okay, Molly, it's okay. He'll be fine. The Order will handle it. The Ord-" her husband mumbled, also looking as though he was preparing to dart from the room.

"Oh Charlie! How could we forget him, how _could_ we?!" she continued to wail.

There was a noise in the hallway and the door flung open to reveal a black, bald man, his voice deep and calm, "Arthur? I thought you weren't coming 'til mid July!" he asked, and Molly let out a heart-wrenching sob.

"The alarm, Kingsley, it was tripped. We took the portkey as planned, but Charlie, he got left behind!" Bill said quickly.

"He was putting away the brooms-" Fred added.

"We tricked him into it, and he said fine and-" George interrupted, both twins pale and gripping wands firmly in their hands.

"The portkey had already activated and we had forgotten him!" Ms Weasley sobbed, but Kingsley had already darted to the fireplace.

"I'm going," Ron said automatically. "He's my brother, and it was my turn…" Ron gulped hard, swallowing convulsively.

"No! No, he's my son! Go! Let me go!" Ms Weasley was still crying, her cheeks wet, but she brushed at them angrily, "you can't stop me. He's my son, and… and it's _my _house." She said, and she already had her wand out when Arthur came running back into the room, surprising them all. It seemed that while everyone had been stumbling to explain the situation, Mr Weasley had run off to contact Dumbledore.

"He says stay here. Molly, Molly, Molly dear-Molly! Molly, NO!" But even as Arthur darted forward to grab his wife, he knew he was too late. She quickly pushed Ginny off her, causing the girl to stumble into Fred, who caught her. "Don't!" she said, as Bill also pulled out his own wand, and she turned quickly to her husband, who was pleading with her. "He's my son," she whispered, and with a "_crack_", she disapparated.

Ginny was staring in horror at the spot where her mother had been standing moments before, tears still running down her face. Fred quickly pulled her closer, as though to stop her from getting any similar ideas, and she sobbed into his shoulder. Arthur sank into a chair, shoulders slumping forward, and ran his hand through his thinning hair.

"I'm going after her!" Bill said, and he brought his wand out of his pocket.

"Me too!" Fred and Ron said simultaneously.

"We can't, it's too late," Mr Weasley said tiredly, his own eyes red rimmed even though he hadn't shed a tear.

"Yes we can! I'm going!" George said, and he pulled out his wand too.

"Dumbledore, he said he was on his way, he's there now, he brought Tonks, Kingsley will be there by now too," Mr Weasley mumbled.

"Dad! Dad! We can help," Ginny said, hiccupping slightly as she stared defiantly at her father.

He was entirely lost with out his wife. Only half the man he was normally, and seemed as though he would collapse inwards on himself at any given minute. "No, we can't. Dumbledore is putting up a charm, anti-apparating charm, when he gets there."

"But, but that means-" Ron gaped, and Bill finished the sentence with a voice completely devoid of emotion, and a look of pain on his face.

"No one can apparate in…or out."

Silence filled the room, and they turned to the defeated form of their father. Mr Weasley's hands were shaking, and his eyes were clenched shut, much as Harry's had the day before. And then he nodded. "No one can get in, or out." He whispered, his voice cracking.

No one talked for a minute, and the silence was unbearable. Ginny was sniffling in Fred's arms still, and, trying to break the silence, George turned to his youngest brother.

Ron was pale under his freckles and wouldn't meet George's eyes.

"What did you mean? What did you mean when you said it was your turn?" George asked, his voice was anything but the casual indifference he meant to use, and Ron squirmed, eyes darting to the floor, and then to the fireplace.

He gulped hard. "It was my turn, my turn to put away the brooms." He looked into George's wide eyes, Ron's own all glassy, and he gulped again, hoping to stop himself from crying. It was all right for Ginny, to bawl into an older brother's arms. "It should be me. Not Charlie…" he whispered, his eyes back on the ground, and a single tear trickled down his cheek, no one able to see it, and Ron himself barely felt it as the shame weighed down his shoulders.

Ginny gave a strangled cry and threw herself at Ron, hugging him tighter than she ever had before. "Don't say that, Ron, " and her voice trembled slightly, "don't."

Ron hugged her back, his face buried in his sister's hair as another single tear trickled down his nose.

* * *

HAHAHA! The way it's going, you wont find out bout Charlie till next year, HAHAHAHA!!! I'm sorry, my dear IR but be strong. Lol. HEEHEEHEE! I always have such long author notes… heehee. Anywho. Next chapter shall be up the following week, around Sunday or Saturday. Maybe earlier, as it tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la. HAH! Okay. I wasn't sure if this would be chapter 4 or 5, but, this is the way it turned out, don't cry. Besides, this is meant to be all about Harry, cause its called Harry Potter. Not the Weasley Wing…. Or something odd…. Now I've got tests to study for, so, aurevoir, after a quick thank you to my faithful reviewers.

My faithful reviewers:

Deep Blue Quill: Thanks Alex, you have reviewed all three of my chapters, so, basically, you are my GOD!!! You are also the proud winner of the name the pig prize. Baron von Piggys. YAAAAAAAAY! Very fab!!!!! Loved your story too!! YAY!

Dave the L's gal: sorry that you hate cliffy's, cause, well, hahahahaha, that was a cliffy-ish ending. Mwoahahahahhahah!! U lurve me! Not.

That's all folks! No one else reviewed! I know, how, predictable. Sorry this chappy took so long, but I'm trying to get a Beta, cause no one wants too, and so, yeah. I'm goin to another site and tryin to get a beta. It may also take a while for the next update, as I might not get it written in time, I'm going to New York and, well, no computer there!

Thank you to all those lazy folks, who, kindly, put me on Author Alert, but didn't give me a review!!!! I'm sooooooooo depressed!!!!! GOD! Just messing, though I do loooove reviews, hint hint. So thankyou to: wadeki, Guatam, brilliant-author16, deep blue quill, PaperbagPrincezz(wicked name!), and CIA151!!!! So touched, truly I am, and very ungrateful too!!!! I want a review!!!!

First person to review gets themselves an ostrich to name and a pair of tin-foil shoes, everyone else just gets a cookie. Sorry. Congrats to last chappys winner, deep blue quill, who is now the proud owner of baron von piggys, a male pig. YAY!!!!

REVIEW PLEASE!!!!!


	5. Warm Plates, Dire Straits

The mother of the Weasley family apparated as quietly as she could to the edge of her home's wards. Within seconds she had crossed the invisible barrier that prevented apparation, set up since the end of Ron's fourth year.

She strode angrily to her house, which, so far, bore no obvious signs of damage. The idea of such murderous creatures in her home, attacking her son and ruining a perfectly good dinner, no less, brought out the sabre tooth tiger in her, and the sight alone, had anyone seen her through a window, was terrifying. Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley kept to the edge and out of sight.

As she got within ten feet of her own front door, loud voices and cursing echoed. Her eyes narrowed menacingly, and for the first time Molly was aware that the door no longer hung on its hinges, but was a good twenty feet to the left of its old position and thirty from her. That fact only added to her anger. It was as she heard a particularly loud bellow that Molly saw an open window, one that lead to the washing room, and was quite out of the way. Maybe this way she could find out if Charlie was in fact in the house, or still, oblivious, in the shed.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Search the rooms!" snapped an irritated Bellatrix Lestrange. Just being in this mudblood-loving home made her annoyed. Normally quite high strung, she was twenty times more violent, as she sneered at the homely living room. A mantelpiece with lovey-dovey photos on it, a worn and comfortable couch with frayed pillows, and a small wooden basket full of yarn and a half knitted jumper, needles wrapped in a horrid maroon colour. It made her sick.

She spat at a large photo that hung on the wall. The frame was simple, made of wood and devoid of design. The photo was in fact a paper clipping, taken from a couple years ago; showing the entirely muggle-loving clan on what must have been a holiday. It was disgusting!

"Ms. Lestrange? Come here!" called the voice of one of the timid new recruits. 'The useless shits,' the maniacal woman thought. 'Ms. Lestrange!', she almost snorted.'Wouldn't scare an effing rabbit.'

"What?!" she snapped. She had been doing that a lot since her husband had once again been captured by the Ministry, and was residing in Azkaban. She followed the voice and found herself at what must be the Weasley's kitchen. Standing over a table with set places and a platter of potatoes was the ignorant recruit, and Bellatrix was feeling slightly more homicidal than usual.

"What?" she snarled. "You're _hungry_, is it?"

The boy backed away in unashamed horror. "N-no! Ms. Lestrange! It's just, just…"

The boy was trembling now, and as he lifted a hand to point at the potatoes, Bellatrix was both amused and disgusted to see sweat patches just under the boy's arms and leaking through his robes. She wouldn't be surprised if he wet himself, the good for nothing bast-

"What? Spit it out you twittering idiot! The Dark Lord doesn't have time for useless babies like you!"

The boy blanched, quivering now. He was definitely going to wet himself.

"What?"

"The-the food, miss."

"What about the effing food?!"

Bella was stalking towards the boy now, and her hands were trembling, itching to wrap themselves around the boy's neck… or better yet, her wand. The sweet words were on the tip of her tongue, and the boy knew it.

"The-the food! It's-it's still h-hot!" he stuttered, and it was Bellatrix's turn to blanch.

"Still what?"

"H-hot, miss. They must have known we were coming! There's food still on the cooker, steam coming from it too, and the plates are warm… m-miss," the boy was tripping over himself to explain, as though pleading his case to a judge, which in fairness, he was. Bellatrix, being the judge and the executioner.

"Shit! The Dark Lord is not going to like this…" she growled, and she was about bellow an order to torch the place and then leave, when someone else called her.

"Bellatrix! We've found something!"

It was Macnair, and it was coming from the room she had just left. 'It had better be something good, or we're all screwed,' thought Bellatrix, as she swept out of the room, not bothering to congratulate the kid on what had been a quite ingenious perception.

"What?" she spat, scowling.

"This clock." Macnair said gruffly.

"What about the bloody clock? We aren't antique shopping, you fool," Bellatrix was now looking extremely menacing, and was looking quite forward to strangling a certain Death Eater when she caught sight of the clock herself.

It wasn't the richly designed wood that caught her eye, but the nine hands, each with a small name on the end in ornate calligraphy. This clock did not tell time. Six hands were pointing at a single word, 'Safe house', another at 'Work', and one, one was pointed at 'Home'. And as Bellatrix and Macnair watched hungrily, another hand, the one of 'Molly Weasley', swung, from 'Travelling' to 'Home', and Bellatrix smiled delightedly.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

AN: and normally I would've stopped here, but I promised you all an update on Saturday, and its Saturday night as I type, and by the time my Beta reads it, it will be Sunday evening, so I'm going to keep going, even though I have, in fairness, been suffering from writers block. I'm just not good at action scenes, or at least, I haven't written one yet….

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Molly shimmied in through the small window as quietly as she could, realising, as she got slightly stuck, that she was in way over her head and hadn't thought this through at all. One thing was for sure though; she could never fault Harry for acting irrationally again.

As she listened cautiously for a sound of any approaching enemy, Molly worried anxiously for her son. 'Where could he be?'

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo **

"Quick! They must be here somewhere! Tell the others that two of the muggle lovers are still here! They're outnumbered!" hissed Bellatrix, before turning to go into the kitchen.

Her mind was whirling with anxiety and questions. One thing was for sure though. They had known they were coming, (one of the recruits probably set off a blasted alarm' Bellatrix cursed inwardly) and for some reason, one of the redheads hadn't gotten out with the others, and by the looks of it, he couldn't, considering the pathetic mother Weasley had come back for him. She would regret it too, after the torture Bellatrix was determined to put her through.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Back in the now deserted living room, one of the hands swung again, unnoticed, this time from 'Home', to 'Elsewhere' and finally, to 'Safe House'.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

There wasthe sound of someone stumbling down the basement steps to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and the anxious Weasley family, or what was left of it, all jerked their heads to the door.The footsteps were coming closer, but none of the Weasleys moved, determined not to get their hopes up, in case the person approaching was just someone such as Mundungus Fletcher, as it had been the last time. It had been like realising Charlie was gone all over again.

The door opened slowly, the doorknob seeming to have taken years to turn, and in poked the head of a slightly bruised, with one single cut on his cheek, Charlie Weasley.

"Charlie!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing herself at him, arms wrapped tightly around him.

No one else seemed to move for a moment, and, their voices as one, Charlie, Ron, Fred, George and Arthur asked, "Where's mum?"

Ginny pulled away from Charlie and, somewhat dreadingly, pulled the door open further, her eyes searching the hallway, looking the same a six year old does when they realise that mummy left them behind in the big department store bathroom all alone.

"What?" both Charlie and Fred yelped.

"She's not with you?!" George added, also looking somewhat nervously around Charlie and into the hallway.

"No! She had the portkey! She's the one who activated it! I thought- I assumed she'd be here!" Charlie was paler than before, and his head jerked over his own shoulder to check the hallway, just in case the woman had taken it upon herself to follow him around without him knowing and simultaneously give everyone else a heart attack. As unlikely as it sounded, Charlie was clinging desperately to the hope that Molly had a Gred and Forge streak in her.

"She went back for you!" Ron moaned, and Ginny burst back into tears.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Molly Weasley crept silently out of the small room, coming into the dark basement. From what she had gathered from listening in, no one was on the basement floor yet, though they were definitely in the kitchen, and though she couldn't hear anything precisely, she did hear the muffled loud voices.

That's why she was entirely surprised and unprepared when, upon opening the door, she came face to face with a white masked, black robed man, looming above her.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

I promise, with all my heart, that there will be an action scene next Saturday, I know I'm dragging it out, but is exam year, and parents are nagging, and I'm having some probs with how I want the scene to play out. Those who review, please please answer my questions… I'd like to know general opinions, tough don't feel offended if I go against majority…

My Questions: 1) Do you think James Potter wore glasses?

2) Do you think there is a possibility of Harry getting a suprise b-day at Grimmauld with the whole DA.

3) Animagus? Just Harry, or the Golden Trio, or Golden Trio and Neville and Ginny and Luna?

4) Harry losing glasses, gaining eyes? Possible canon? Should he lose the specs, or keep em, but still have perfect eyesight, and they could be a bluff, or just keep crappy eyes?

5) Percy.... reunite with family?

6) Harry getting captain? or Ron?

These are just questions, as I am a curious person, and it means nothing more. I like to know peoples opinions!

Thankyous! brilliant-author16: most definitley!!!! mess goodbye, Ron and Hermione pie!!!!!! my grandad says crap like that... lol. okays. tankyou!!! for both reviews!!!! u rock!!!!

deep blue quill: u rock too! thanks for reviewing, the idea of me being atristically undiscovered, while untrue, is very comforting and slightly depressing, but very welcome all the same!!! thanks for both the reviews!!!Oo

max-wiseacre: thanks for reviewing!!! if you do so again, please tell me what you meant by the expand further thing.... theres a reason i picked the name Goldilocks.... and its not my hair colour!!!!!

hahahhahhahahha: thankyou for reviewing, but i cant give away any of the plot.... even if your sounding alot like myself....die Harry die!

Little Red Riding Hood In Pink: awwwwwwwwwww!!!! Hows Roberto? Miss him much? Italy was fab then? lol. OC TOMORROW!!!!!! cant wait cant wait. VCR's at the ready, let the taping begin!!!!!!! Sethsethsethsethsethsethsethsethsethseth!!!

ms.understood: awwwwwwwww!! i hope u feel loads better by now!!! and i'm sorry i couldnt write as quickly as u want, but i'm a lazy ass!!! thanks though!!

Cecilia Orechio!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BETA PEOPLE!!!!! AHE IS THE MOST AMAZING PERSON ALIVE AND QUITE POSSIBLY GOD!!!!!!!!! READ HER STORIES NOOOOOOW!!!!!!

review people, cause it makes me feel loved!!! so press the pretti lilac button!!!!!! Cookies for all!!!!!

The winner of the ostrich and tin foil shoes are..... dum dum dum.... BRILLIANT-AUTHOR16!!! you may choose the gender and name of your ostrich!!!!! and i hope the shoes fit!!!

Next week, a hippo and peacock, all in one!!!!!! Only for the first reviewer!!!!


	6. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

AN:Hello. I am, to everyone's absolute horror, back again with a miniscule teaser and preview to the next chappy, which i will, indeed, write. Ha ha, take that you scallywags... and JK Rowling, with her good plot and what not! GoldilocksWILL stand the testof time... an well as thePOWER OF TIME! Clever..., yes? I think so... because that is the title of this story! so, yeah, i'm gonna get a chapter of two out, and if i get alotta feedback... or any at all, cause that would be considered alot to me, or if i still have anyenthusiam what so ever by thetime the sixth book is out, i may continue this story... because i am a delightful and giving person. expect the rest later this week... soon.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Molly Weasley crept silently out of the small room,sneaking into the dark basement. From what she had gathered from listening in, no one was on the basement floor yet, though they were definitely in the kitchen, and though she couldn't hear anything precisely, she did hear the muffled loud voices.

That's why she was entirely surprised and unprepared when, upon opening the door, she came face to face with a white masked, black robed man, looming above her.

A scream ripped from her throat before the man could stop her as she backed away, startled.

"Dammit woman! Shut up!" he snarled, and Molly, aware of how unprepared she truly was, whipped out her wand, pointing it with a shaking hand and, with a conscious effort, forced herself to stop screaming.

Behind the cloaked man, and he was certainly a man if the masculine voice was anything to go by, she heard the thundering of approaching footsteps and she knew without a doubt that she had, in her fear, alerted the rest of the dark wizards.

"Don't move a muscle Weasley. This isn't the opportune moment," he spat and, before the puzzled and still terrified mother could comprehend those words, she was disarmed and being hauled roughly by the neck of her robes. The door was kicked open and she was forced in front of the man to meet the most unpleasant group of people she had ever faced in her life.


End file.
